Blood and fire... Cries of fear and pain, echoing through the night... Desperate souls, spirits destined to never rest, floating around him. "HELP!" He heard the screaming woman, but he couldn't see her... or help her... Terror and pain were clutching on his heart... A child lost forever. A small, terrified boy, with only companion his fear... and his need for vengeance. Diabound... Diabound... Bakura...
"Bakura!"
He opened his eyes. A tri-colored haired boy, with sharp purple eyes, was holding him.
He let out an eerie cry, as he pushed the former Pharaoh off him.
Yami fell on his back; he didn't have the time to react, before the enraged male climbed on him, holding a knife in his hand.
A shaking hand was holding Yami down, as the knife was dangling above his head... And yet, all he could see in Bakura's eyes was... fear. Fear and pain.
Bakura stared deep in his lover's eyes. He clutched on the boy's chest, his nails piercing through soft skin, before throwing away the knife.
As far away as possible.
He jumped off the bed and quickly slipped in a pair of jeans before leaving the bedroom. He ran in the kitchen and simply stood above the sink, widened rust-colored eyes staring at the void.
He hadn't had that dream in years...
He felt, rather than heard Ryou enter the kitchen. The small whitette walked past him, opened the cupboard and took out the small ceramic box he kept his beloved tea leaves in, and a jar of honey. When Bakura's eyes fell on the green leaves, his Light was getting the milk out of the fridge.
Fear traded places with a numb feeling in his chest, as he curled up on the armchair behind Ryou. The scent of brewing tea wandered in the room.
Ryou didn't ask. He sat beside Bakura, making sure he drank all his tea, but he didn't speak.
A small, warm hand caressed his face. Bakura closed his eyes, enjoying Ryou's warmth on his cold skin. He didn't complain when Ryou softly tangled his fingers in messy white hair.
"I had that dream. That dream... I was having years ago. Remember?" he croaked, after some time.
"Your village?" Ryou asked quietly.
Bakura nodded. "I woke up and jumped on him, holding a knife. I didn't hurt him... I threw it away..."
Ryou sat on the armchair's manchette, taking his darkness in his arms. Bakura closed his eyes, burrying his face in Ryou's chest.
It felt like hours had passed until he spoke again. The numb feeling in his chest was for some time now, replaced by guilt. The image of confused, hurt purple eyes was hidden behind his own eyes.
"Is he gone?" he asked.
Ryou got up and headed quietly to Bakura's bedroom. He pushed the door open, to find the bed empty...
"I am sorry, Bakura..." he whispered.
Bakura smiled bitterly. "I didn't hear him leave... Perhaps he was scared that I would hear him and attack... again."
Ryou poured some more water in the kettle. "You didn't exactly attack him... don't beat yourself up." he said softly.
"Wouldn't you feel attacked if a lunatic jumped on you, holding a knife over you?" Bakura raised an eyebrow.
"I suppose..." Ryou admitted.
Bakura looked away from the young light, losing himself in his thoughts.
Yami and Bakura... had a strange past. Violent and destructive. They had a strange present. Confusing and... different. Different than anything Bakura had experienced.
They would probably have a strange future, as well.
The strangest and scariest thing of all... was the fact that Bakura wished he would have a future with him.
He could hardly remember the night he found himself in Yami's bed. He seemed to think there was lots of alcohol involved. The next morning, other than a headache, Yami had to face Bakura's death-threats as well. He swore if anyone found out... he would murder him.
"You know, no matter what happens, you keep telling me you will murder me. I think you need to work on your threats..." he had said, smirking at the enraged albino, who gave him a very rude answer in their mother tongue.
For some reason, neither of them could explain... he kept returning in Yami's bed.
Hot breath on his neck...
Strange, kind words in his ears...
Unwanted, warm feelings in his heart.
The Pharaoh's friends had protested loudly.
"He will hurt you!"
"This is a horrible mistake!"
Sometimes he wished he still wanted to hurt him.
The need to feel his touch was... disgustingly amazing. Scary, sometimes painful and ever so unwanted... but amazing.
He had caught himself thinking he didn't need his revenge anymore.
He caught himself thinking he was... at peace.
He couldn't forget the uneasy spirits, though... How could he find his redemption, when they still hadn't found theirs...?
How could he allow his soul to feel free, when-
"Stop overthinking things..." a deep, smooth voice sounded in his head, accompanied by the image of smiling, purple eyes.
Go away, you idiot.
"You're such a- what's the word? Drama queen."
Absolute moron.